I am a 10th generation descendant of Gabriel Baubau (also spelled Beaubeau, Babeau, Baubeau, etc.), who is believed to be the first Bobo immigrant circa 1700. He came from western France to Virginia under the headright system. For more information on the headright system see here (https://tinyurl.com/yd5ct5s7). For documentation about Gabriel Baubau and his descendants see here: (http://www.blankensteingenealogy.net/bobo.htm).
Though Bobo is an uncommon name, there are thousands of us all over the US. It is absolutely amazing how quickly a family can grow from an original pair. Why, just look at the human family! Bobos have fought in every American war since the Revolution. Thirteen are buried in Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. One was awarded the Medal of Honor see here, and several are on the Viet Nam Wall. One was with Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer at the famous "last stand" see here. And it was a Bobo who sold Elvis' mother, Gladys, her son's first guitar (see here: https://tupelo-hardware.myshopify.com/pages/the-guitar).
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Sadly of late it seems that Find A Grave has turned into Find An Obituary. I do not post obits word for word from the newspaper. First of all, out of respect for the living, and second because once the funeral is past it is old news. Yes, I post deceased relations and other pertinent information from obits. I especially dislike scanned obits (or any other documents) that are posted as photos in the photo section. FAG rules say not to do this. Perhaps the new site will no longer permit it. Another thing I increasingly detest is "flowers" that are about three inches long, which cause several regular sized ones to be moved off the page. Only two of such long flower notes can show on the memorial at a time. It's selfish. Here is another sad experience I have now and then on Find A Grave: I recently observed a conflict--exact same photo posted on two different memorials for two different men, both with the same name. When I pointed out the obvious error to one of the photo contributors, I got this reply: "I don't care what your problem is. Leave me out of you [SIC] incoherent, worrisome, meddling. Do not reply."
Sigh, and so it goes.
Here is a poem I like by Emily Dickinson:
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed;
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, --the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met at night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
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